


We Collide In A Time, Almost Drowning

by jasonptodd



Category: The Cornetto Trilogy, The World's End (2013)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blow Jobs, Cocaine, Depression, Drug Use, Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, F/M, M/M, Teenagers, Underage Drug Use, everyone is basically drunk and high all the time, it's not that bad i'm just tagging everything, look i'm sorry for fucking up, sorry about all the ocs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasonptodd/pseuds/jasonptodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gary does not look forward. He only looks back, always, ever. And why wouldn’t he?</p><p>(or: What happens when I want a happy end for Gary King.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gary hates edges and cliffs. He hates neon light and everything that is harsh and sharp. He despises the lack of smoothness in the hospital. There is no transition at all, there is just abstraction and colour blindness.

His room is white, so very white it pains his eyes to look at the walls. But maybe that is only because he is not used to the clean atmosphere, because the concept of structure and order has been alien to him for so long. They have structure and order here, though. There are times when to eat, when to go to sleep, when to meet with others, when to talk to his psychologist.

It is his twenty-third day when Gary decides to try the Golden Mile once more. He is aware that it is a ridiculous attempt to rise to joy once more and that he glorifies the past too much. That is why he does not tell his psychologist about his plans.

“Gary, you have to look forward.”

“Sorry, do you happen to have a cig?”

Of course she doesn’t, smoking is prohibited on the entire area and the patients are not allowed to have their own cigarettes. Asking can’t hurt, though and Gary really craves the nicotine. It’s better now – at the beginning he used to drink liters of Coke Zero to make up for it which didn’t help at all –, but he’s still fairly pissed most of the time which might also be due to the fucking depressing atmosphere.

“What I mean is – what do you actually look forward to, Gary?”

That is an extraordinarily stupid question. Gary does not look forward. He only looks back, always, ever. And why wouldn’t he?

It is June 1988 and Gary and Andy have just blown off their plans for the evening (hitting on Sarah who’s just moved to Newton Haven, or at least that’s what Gary planned since Andy is quite proud to remind everyone around him that he’s together with a boring-to-death girl called Jenny who has never been drunk in her life and is not allowed to be out after ten) because a friend of a friend of Gary’s has stocked up on his pot. So they’re sitting in Gary’s room and pass a joint between them. Their third one, to be correct.

“So, how’s it going with Jenny, then?”, Gary grins and lets himself fall back on his bed.

“Fine, I guess.” Andy focuses on the joint in his hands just a tad bit too much and Gary knows. “What? You’ve been together with her for what, three months, and still haven’t fucked her?”, he chuckles. Andy scratches the back of his head. “That’s not really what it is all about, Gary”, he says. “She’s a nice girl.”

“She’s a nice girl”, Gary mocks him, “Fucking hell, that’s not the Andy I know! You do know that if you don’t fuck her in four weeks, she’s either a nun or banging someone else?” After some thinking and staring at the ceiling which seems to change colours every second he sits up. “And in this case”, he adds, “I don’t think there is anyone else who’d bang her.”

“Shut up, Gary”, Andy says slowly and quietly. “It’s really none of your business.”

Gary looks at him for a few seconds – or minutes – and then starts laughing, so much that he actually falls of the bed. “Give that to me”, he giggles and holds his hand out. Andy starts laughing as well and hands him the joint.

Gary inhales deeply and has to cough which only makes him laugh even more. Andy grins at him happily. He reminds Gary of a puppy for some reason. Which is good, because Gary likes puppies.

“Why the fuck do I look like a puppy, Gary?”

Oops. Actually he didn’t plan to say that out loud.

“Put some fucking music on”, Gary replies, sits down on the bed again and crosses his legs and is grateful the situation doesn’t feel awkward due to his marijuana blood level…or not too much anyways.

“About that Jenny girl…”, he says thoughtfully and Andy just shakes his head while flipping through his record collection. “Leave it Gary”, he says (and he sounds almost sober). Gary holds up a finger. “Wait. Do you even wanna fuck her?”

Andy stares at him. “I told you that’s not what it’s all about”, he says and mutters something that sounds suspiciously much like “wanker”. “Yeah, sure”, Gary grins, “but if you don’t want to, shouldn’t you kinda try to have a better time?”

“What the fuck are you saying, Gary?”, Andy asks and he still looks at the records although it’s obvious he just needs to stare somewhere else. “I’m saying”, Gary starts and then swings his legs off the bed, “that you shouldn’t focus so much on a girl who’s not worth all the effort anyways and” – he holds his hand up because Andy is already starting to protest – “mostly while there’s plenty of other stuff out there you shouldn’t miss.”

And although that is really ninety per cent the marijuana speaking, Gary can’t deny a bit of curiosity on his own side. Or more.

Andy has settled on the Floodland record which Gary purchased last year (he’s still proud of it – and of convincing Andy that yes, the Sisters are the fucking best British band out there, or at least they were until he discovered Primal Scream – but that’s another story altogether). Gary exhales the light fume and watches it dance above his head.

Finally, Andy turns around – so slowly, slowly – and Gary smiles. “Like what?”, Andy demands. “What shouldn’t I – miss?” “Dunno”, Gary says, way too obviously neutral, and takes another drag. “I’m just sayin’ there are some things I don’t regret at all”, and okay, now he’s only looking at the wall because he knows, even now, that somehow he’s crossed that thin line between just outta curiosity and I’m fucking serious, man. And he remembers that time like half a year ago when he met a friend’s friend at a party whose name he can’t even recall and they made out and went to the loo and fucked there – because they were wasted as fuck, no, because he’s Gary fucking King, he fucks girls, yeah, but he is not gay, and he knows what they’d say if they knew, and he knows what Andy would say so he keeps silent all the time, until now because he’s wasted as heck again.

And then Andy sits on his bed all of a sudden and grabs the joint and inhales deeply and stubs it out on the floor and turns around and wow, that’s close, Gary doesn’t move or maybe he does, and when did he forget how gravity works? And it gets worse, it gets worse, and the music is so loud and everything is so colourful and then Gary kisses him, deeply, fiercely, wastedly. It’s a good kiss, he has to admit, rough and smeary and distasteful, really. Gary thinks it’s disgusting how he’s making out with his best friend on his bed but as long as the music’s good everything’s fine and besides it’s not as if he would care for anything on this world. He’s cool, alright, he’s cool up to the point where it’s about the important stuff, and this is important, this is so important to him, even though he would never admit it. Andy kisses him back, though, so he can’t be that bad, can he?

At some point – not at some point, Gary can pinpoint the exact moment when the kiss becomes heated and more than – they undress each other while there’s a guitar riff exploding in the background and the noise becomes unbearable. Gary moans, which is unusual. “Fuck you”, Andy mumbles while Gary takes off his pants, “fuck you, Gary, fuck” and then again, when Gary starts thrusting against him and kisses him disgustingly wet, “fuck you”, the words becoming mere substitutes for desperate moans and sharp intakes of breath, for cries and heated gasping and then Gary can’t take the sensual overload anymore, can’t go further and comes with a deep moan, all the while still thrusting against Andy who takes about two seconds more and then they slowly stop and Gary tries to breathe evenly which, obviously, he fails in and then none of them say anything and Gary’s head is swirling and shaking from what exactly? he has no idea, can’t think anyways, doesn’t want to either so he just rolls off to the side and stares at Andy who has fallen asleep (or at least closed his eyes) and that’s when Gary thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s a tiny bit not straight, but he’s so so tired and will think about this in the morning or next weekend or never.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas chapter. Lots of punches.
> 
> (The first blow job I wrote.)

“Your father was an alcoholic and abusive.”

“Yeah, so what?” (No, I did not say that, you made me say it. It is not true. He is not an alcoholic. He is not.)

Gary is aware he is overturning the facts again. He is also aware that it does not matter in the slightest. Slowly he leans back into the couch – a fucking couch, his psychologist really does everything text book-y – and breathes in deeply.

“Is there anything you would like to tell him? Anything you regret not having said?”

“Nah. Not really.” (Yes, I do. I want to tell him he ruined every Christmas I ever had.)

It is December 1988 and Gary sits on the ground behind the gym, smoking his fourth cigarette in a row. He leans back and exhales sharply.

“Got any left?”

It’s Steve. Of course it’s Steve.

“Yeah”, Gary mumbles and kicks over his cigarette pack and lighter. Steve sits down next to him and takes the last cigarette out of the pack, lighting it for a long time.

“What you still doing here?”, Steve asks. “It’s Christmas break, for fuck’s sake.”

“Everyone can go fuck themselves”, Gary smiles while stubbing out what is left of his cigarette. Steve is silent for a while. Then he quietly says, “ 's your dad again, isn't it?” Gary stretches his arms. “You took my last cigarette,” he points out. “You owe me at least ten packs this month alone”, Steve replies and inhales deeply. Then he hesitates. “It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know”, he mumbles.

Gary clears his throat. “Yeah. You know what, I’m gonna go home now, decorating the tree, stacking up on my booze for New Year’s and so on.” As he turns around, Steve gets up. “Uh”, he says awkwardly and scratches his head, “merry Christmas, I suppose.” Gary nods. “Yeah, don’t be naughty”, he grins.

Gary comes home at eleven p.m. because there’s nowhere else to go and he’s bloody cold. He closes the door as quietly as possible, but his dad overhears it. Of course. The one fucking time in the year his dad is actually home and awake is two days before Christmas. Maybe he’ll be gone by the 25th, though. Gary can only hope.

“…Gary? That you?”, his father roars from the living room chair and then proceeds to try to stand up, failing miserably. Shit. His mom’s already gone – or passed out – or whatever.

“Hi Dad”, Gary mutters as he passes the door to the living room where no one has ever lived, really, because it’s stacked to the top with pizza boxes and old newspapers nobody bothered to tidy up. “You bloody come ‘ere”, his dad orders. There’s no way out now, so Gary can obey right away.

“Heard you failin’ classes again?”, his dad scoffs at him and gets up again, this time successfully. He’s reeking of cheap supermarket booze and smoke and has blood on his knuckles, possibly his own, but much more likely his wife’s. “Yeah, well, maybe I wouldn’t if you weren’t too fucking busy either beating up Mum or running away like the fucking pig you are”, Gary shouts back and fuck, where did this come from again because he knows what this will end up like, as it always does.  
“You disrespectful faggot!”, his dad screams back and takes a few unsure steps towards Gary and Gary wants to throw up because of the reek and then his dad punches him unexpectedly confidently and hard in the gut and now Gary really feels like puking, and then he gets hit again over the head and at some point he just punches back which really makes things only worse, fucking hell, Gary, can’t you think straight for once?  
—  
Gary wakes up with a black eye and blood on his lips and a numbness in his stomach that almost makes him trip when he stands up. He stumbles down the stairs, almost falling down on multiple occasions. When he enters the kitchen, nobody’s there and he’d be sick if he were to look who’s home. He supposes his dad’s gone again and his mom’s in some cheap hotel a few hours away and will return in a few days when her bruises and swells will have faded. That’s good because it means a peaceful week.

He wants to go record shopping, but when he stands in front of the closed record shop he realizes it’s Christmas Eve. “Fuck this”, he mutters as he lights a cigarette – only his second today –. The walk home seems longer than the way to the shop, but that might be because it’s so freezing and Gary couldn’t bother to put on a coat. He doesn’t want to drown in self-pity, but there’s nothing to do except listening to his records and smoking because everyone else is home celebrating. Just to make sure, he calls Andy.

“Gary, I’m sorry, mate, but I’m sorta busy, see you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

It’s around seven p.m., Gary is watching some terrible action film on TV and eating pizza, when his dad comes home and everything falls apart again. His dad is blind drunk, even more than the day before and Gary isn’t quick enough to escape upstairs to his room where he could lock the door and spend a terrible night, so his dad catches him. “You fucking bastard”, he shouts at Gary, then babbles something incomprehensible which probably contains some swear words and detailed descriptions of what a disappointment Gary is to the family. Then, he punches him again. And again. And again.

Gary manages to release himself with a nicely targeted hit between his dad’s eyebrows which makes both of them stumble and fall, but since Gary is the sober one this time - the first Friday in months, he thinks bitterly -, he gets up again quicker and before he can even think he’s out of the door and running and running and running until the tears on his cheeks freeze to ice and breathing becomes exhausting and painful and his heart thuds like an atomic bomb threatening to explode and then he stops.

He’s in front of Andy’s house although he doesn’t know why. The house is dark except for the Christmas decorations in the living room and Andy’s bedside lamp he can see from down here. It’s Christmas Eve, he remembers, and it’s well past eleven p.m. There’s no reason Andy would let him in now, but Gary is cold and he can’t go back anyways, so he can try. Looking around, he picks up a pebble which has the perfect size to be thrown against a window which he proceeds to do, he just estimates badly so there’s a big “thump” and then it’s quiet and then the window opens and Gary hears a whisper.

"Fucking hell, what is it?"

Gary exhales sharply and all of a sudden doesn’t know what to say. (That is a first.)

"Oh come in already, you fucktard!", Andy hisses, "before my dad sees you!"

Gary nods and starts climbing the downpipe. By the time he reaches Andy’s room he is out of breath again.

Andy sits on his bed, staring at Gary climb in through the window with wide eyes.

"What the fuck happened to you?", Andy demands and Gary, busy wiping his t-shirt which is still helplessly dirty and torn because he managed to scratch everything open on his way, looks up and says: "What the heck you talking about?"

"You actually managed to get into a fight on Christmas Eve, for fuck’s sake", Andy growls and after a while, quieter, "…oh."

Gary keeps silent because there’s nothing he could possibly say and his head aches and his nose has started bleeding again and feels wrong just like everything else and if Andy throws him out he can’t sleep anywhere which was fine in summer but now it’s cold and he forgot his coat so he just keeps still and stares at the floor as if that could help him.

Ages later, Andy gets up and breaks the awkward silence. “I’ll get you some sheets and stuff”, he announces and then adds, “you can smoke, but you know the rules. Window’s open. And no ash in my room.”

Rules are there to be broken, Gary thinks, but when Andy’s gone, he still opens the window so the smell doesn’t pervade the entire house and Andy’s dad gets a sort of seizure again. The cigarette is nice and warm and gives his body what it aches for which is very comforting tonight.

Andy comes back with fresh sheets, neatly folded, and some ice cubes in a box which he lays down on his bed without a word. Gary takes them and presses them lightly against his forehead where it hurts the most and he tries to wipe the blood flowing from his nose with a tail of his shirt, but it only exacerbates the pain.  
"Wait, lemme…", Andy mumbles and takes a tissue from his bedside table, pressing it gently under Gary’s nose. Haven’t they been here before? They’re so close, and if Gary’s nose wasn’t filled with blood he could smell Andy and his heart is thumping again and oh God, Gary can’t think straight anymore, so he leans forward and lets himself fall forever and then he’s kissing Andy with everything he’s got - which is nothing, in truth -, Andy is kissing him back, though, so Gary keeps falling into the dark where everything is soft and soothing and warm, because he is desperate and hopeless and there is nothing he has left to offer except this. He starts pulling Andy’s belt, but Andy pushes him away - why? - and murmurs: "I don’t…I don’t think we should go there." between two kisses - so why don’t you stop, then? -. Gary drags him closer, still closer, because he can’t bear the idea of being rejected again and their arms intertwine. They fall on Andy’s bed because falling is so pleasant and Gary unfastens Andy’s belt again. This time Andy doesn’t protest and neither does he when Gary moves down his neck and chest and pulls down his pants and starts sucking the tip of his cock.

It’s his only way to say thank you and Andy knows that, he bloody knows and still doesn’t object, instead starts thrusting up and moaning quietly as Gary takes in more and puts pressure on the very tip until Andy is a writhing mess on the verge of his climax fucking into his mouth mercilessly. Gary pulls away and just then, Andy comes with a muffled cry and Gary lies still next to him, watching him tremble in his haze until he calms down and breathes regularly. Then he kisses Andy again, fiercely and hard, smashing their lips together in a desperate plea.

Gary falls asleep with the uneasy feeling in his stomach that he fucked up everything, and that there is no possible way back, but right now he doesn’t even care. Or maybe that’s just what he tells himself because he never cares about anything or anyone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have an addictive nature, Gary”, she says as if it was a bad thing.
> 
> “Which you have to fight, all the time”, she adds after some thinking.
> 
> “I can't”, Gary thinks and doesn't say it out loud.

Gary could shoot himself after every group meeting. When he asks his psychologist how many more meetings he has to attend, she looks at him like he's offered her a smoke. “We're looking for long-term solutions, Gary”, she repeats for the millionth time. He waves her off with a “yeah sure, I know that” and goes out for a walk.  
The cigarettes he bought while skipping dinner last night and heading down to the town taste like heaven. Even more so because he knows he'll be here two or three more weeks if they discover him smoking and cigarettes always tasted the best when they were forbidden, like back when he was sixteen and got all his cigs stealing and cadging at parties.

It is December 1988, one day before New Year's Eve and Pete's parents are gone, so his house is stacked to the top with bored teenagers on Christmas break, booze and the heavy smell of sweat and perfume combined with smoke of various herbal sources.

Gary sits in Pete's bedroom, sharing a joint with Steve and two girls called Rebecca and Teresa who are fourteen and Gary's top priority for the evening. He hasn't seen Andy yet, but if it's true the moron is here with his girlfriend, he doesn't want to either (he'd have to throw up).

He is determined. Tonight will be fun.

Needless to say, he is of another opinion altogether when a girl stumbles through the door, dragging Andy behind her and kissing him fiercely and slobberishly while he pulls her closer and grabs her arse and they start making really disgusting noises.

Gary is so fucking pissed already, and he is even more pissed by the fact that he's pissed (and in his mind this sounded better than when he tells Rebecca, but does it matter?), so he grabs her and smashes their lips together and she grins and says “bit eager, are we?”, and yeah, course he is, she's giggling and pushing into the kiss though, can't be that bad now, he drags her with him, down, down the stairs, just out of the room, and into the bathroom, and she pushes him to the wall, whispers sweet promises of nothing in his ear and he grins at her although he feels like crying. She kisses him again in response, tasting of smoke and strawberry vodka and one or two hours of no regrets and no thoughts but his fingers in her hair and her smeared lip gloss and her hitched breath on his ear when she leans forward and says, under her breath: “I can blow you”, and, unlacing her blouse and bra and dropping them to the ground, “or you can fuck me”, and Gary feels sick but at the same time this sounds so awfully nice, like forgetting, and he can feel himself getting hard, so he pushes her against the door once more and she fumbles around with his zip and lets his pants fall to the floor and he sheds them somewhere and she's still giggling even while kissing him. When she starts stroking his cock, he moans quietly and wants to say her name, but what was it? He can't recall, but then, when she takes off her pants as well and pushes gently against him, and he puts on a condom – because he still remembers a bit of real life, even though this is not really happening and all in his head –, and slowly pushes in and she inhales sharply, he remembers, Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca. He repeats her name so often it's engraved in his thoughts, but still there's something he can't quite put his finger on, something that matters even more, but he can't, won't think about that. She screams and cries his name, maybe, or maybe he just makes her do it, or she's faking, but he doesn't care, really, just fucks her quicker against the door which isn't even locked for God's sake, and then he comes with a sharp cry and fucks her all the way through until it wears off and he pulls out, breathing heavily.

She grins at him and, kissing him once more, murmurs, “that was amazing”, but she's lying, of course she is and then they scramble together their clothes and get dressed without a word and God, he is still so high he can't think. She leaves the room and Gary leans against the door, sighing audibly. “Fuck”, he mutters, and then again, “fuck”, a thousand times. He washes his face and his hands and still feels somewhat dirty and the world is turning and spinning and his eyes are red and swollen, and God, he just needs to sober up so badly.

Then the door opens and a guy comes in and pisses and Gary is still mumbling “fuck” to himself which makes the guy turn around and go “you alright, mate?”, and Gary realizes it's that guy again, the one he fucked like a year ago, and he turns round and says “I'm not gay, I'm really not”.  
The guy raises his eyebrows, his eyes all of a sudden flickering with realization, and he says “oh my God, you're Gary King”, and Gary nods and smiles and has to laugh, because this boy of all the people will meet him and he can't even remember his goddamn name and now the boy comes closer and Gary starts giggling and the boy says “my name's Jamie, you idiot” and then everything's a blur and Gary kisses someone for the second time tonight in this bathroom – that's a good quota, man – and the boy called Jamie presses him against the basin. He tastes of vodka, too, and Gary needs something to drink and he's suddenly so hungry and tired and then the bathroom door opens again, for Christ's sake, and someone comes in Gary can't see from this angle, but he whispers “oh my God”, and Gary realizes it's Andy, and yeah, oh my God.

Gary knows it doesn't matter at all, doesn't matter that he's having a guy's tongue stuck down his throat who doesn't mean a bit to him, doesn't matter that he grabs the basin to not fall down, doesn't matter that he's already fucked a girl tonight whose last name he never found out, doesn't fucking matter at all that Jamie grabs his arse now and starts practically humping him – is Andy even still there? –, it doesn't matter because he is Gary the fucking King and he can conquer the world if he wants to, and if it takes him all this, he'll gladly do it. He will not have his fucking heart shattered again, will never wake up in a bed that smells so good he doesn't want to leave, will never fall asleep with that warm feeling in his stomach, will never kiss Andrew Knightley again because this bathroom is a bad substitute, but it's better than watching Andy with his girlfriend, and it tastes of sweet despair and lonely one night stands and it's good. Gary King will conquer the world. Gary King will rise and win and never care because he is not so stupid.

So he groans into the kiss, lets out sighs and moans and realizes he is actually hard again and yeah, he wants this, really. Jamie is already thrusting against him and then all of a sudden Gary pushes him away.

“What?”, Jamie slurs, who is nowhere near sober, and furrows his brows. Gary shakes his head – his brain feels like swishy pudding – and mumbles “Fsssffdfdhfhghh”, which isn't really what he wanted to say. He has a mission though.

He leaves the bathroom, more or less in an upright position, heading directly towards the kitchen to get a drink because he'll need one. “Hey Gary, wanna play Truth or Dare?”, someone calls and Gary wants to, really, but first he has to take care of something else. He downs a shot of tequila, and then another one, and then he stumbles out into the garden and throws up.

“Dear fucking Christ, Gary”, someone says. The someone turns out to be Andy who helps him get up and sits down next to him. Gary stares at him for a long time before he remembers his mission.

“I don't care”, Gary says.

“What?”

“I don't care about anyone. I don't care about you, I don't, and you can go and fuck your girlfriend and it's okay, because I. Don't. Care.”

Andy nods and thinks for a while.

“You're a fucking idiot, Gary.”

“I'm not –”

“Yes, you are, just shut up already, of course you care, and I broke up with her if it makes you feel better, and I'd do it again.”

And then Andy leans over and kisses Gary with his rasp lips. With his fucking hands on Gary's back pulling him closer, Gary tastes the vodka for the third time tonight, and he is high and drunk and just threw up and on adrenaline and this is not a good time for the two of them, except it is the only time for them, so he takes his chances.  
–  
Apparently smoke is detected more easily than he would have expected, so it's his therapist and him again and she looks at him like his fucking mum.

“You have an addictive nature, Gary”, she says as if it was a bad thing.

“Which you have to fight, all the time”, she adds after some thinking.

“I can't”, Gary thinks and doesn't say it out loud.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gary looks at the fireworks and thinks Yes, Yes, It Is Nineteen Eighty Nine and the promise that lies in the air is heavy.

Gary meets Jamie again, oddly, a day after.

Weren't he wasted and desperate and too hyped to think, he probably wouldn't agree to spend New Year's Eve on some pub toilet where Jamie doesn't stop grinning and kissing him at the same time before taking a small plastic bag out of his pocket which contains a few pinches of an easily recognizable white powder.

He also wouldn't agree to snort the cocaine, neatly divided up into two lines, all at once, and he most certainly wouldn't agree to fuck Jamie afterwards and make his orgasm and his high collide in a dizzy hyperactivity he's never experienced before, and he wouldn't agree to pass out on the toilet for two hours – or three weeks, or a second – with Jamie still fucking him.

 

He wakes up because Steve dips his head into ice cold water and screams at him – or whispers, or cries –.

 

“You wanker”, Steve says, or something alike, Gary feels too dizzy to speak, or listen, or exist.

 

“Happy N'Year”, he thinks.

 

“It's not even midnight”, Steve says, and then sighs. “At least you're done throwing up.”

 

The next thing that happens is that Gary stands up straight and that's a state he hopes to keep. When he comes out of the toilet, Steve keeps him from tripping all over again – thanks mate –, there's Andy at a table a million miles from Gary, but then he grins and sits next to him.

 

There's something Gary needs to say, but he doesn't even know it anymore, and right now he's just tired.

 

“So you brought him out there”, Andy says and points at the toilet, and Steve nods and takes a sip of his pint. “Next time he's yours”, he laughs, and Andy looks somewhat hurt (but that could be Gary's imagination, from all he knows).

 

An age later they're out in the fields, watching the town from above, and the first fireworks are already going off, and everything's so so wonderfully colourful and when he turns around to Andy, he's grinning like a madman and Gary crawls towards him and then he remembers, but before he can say it, there are a billion fireworks exploding in his head and over the town and the sky turns a yellowish reddish blueish greenish sea of colour and the gunshots go off in his head, but it's just the fireworks.

 

Happy New Year, someone says, And To You, someone else says. Fuck Yeah, someone tells him, It's Nineteen Eighty Nine, and Gary looks at the fireworks and thinks Yes, Yes, It Is Nineteen Eighty Nine and the promise that lies in the air is heavy, and he wants to kiss Andy because he suddenly can conquer the world again, but Andy pushes him away and laughs nervously and says Happy New Year.

 

(But maybe it isn't like this. Maybe he doesn't push Gary away, and he's mixing up his mind now. Maybe the first thing Gary says in Nineteen Eighty Nine is not _I'm sorry_ , but what he actually means to say.

 

And maybe Andy doesn't say _No, it's fine_ , but replies _I'm glad you said it first_ and laughs and kisses Gary.

 

And maybe Gary doesn't start listing all the things he's wanted to say ever since he tasted the raspberry vodka for the first time, doesn't tell Andy how he's sorry for fucking up, for Jamie, for Rebecca, for _I don't care_ , for everything he has done, and infinitely much more. And maybe he finds a way to say what he means to say instead of helplessly pleading with his failures and mistakes laid out plainly because he has no other way, literally has no chance to form into words, and all his rambling and babbling leads up to only one logical conclusion, because he's burned all the bridges _and now there is nothing left for him except saying what he is obliged to_.)

 

I Love You, he thinks.

 

I Love You spins around in his head.

 

I Love You, he says.

 

Andy turns away from him.

 

(The world moves in slow motion, and that's why Gary can see every firework exploding separately, building up to an incredible painting which erases itself after a split second, replaced by an equally indifferent colourful collection.)

 

A million things happen simultaneously.

 

First of all, Andy turns around again.

 

Secondly, his eyes light up as a reflection of the fireworks and Gary can see them shimmer.

 

Thirdly, he shakes his head and says “No, you don't.”

 

Fourthly, Gary kisses him and this time Andy doesn't push him away, pulls him closer in fact and kisses him back.

 

Now this might all be because he's still high on the cocaine, and because tonight is a very confusing night, and because it hurts how close Andy is holding him – I can't breathe – sorry – no, it's okay –, but Gary can't stop crying, doesn't even remember why he started it in the first place, but now he's crying and shaking and it's _okay, this one time it's alright, and it will never be like this again, will it? but that's fine, as long as it feels good now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> (also I made him say The Thing, but it feels OOC, and I'm sorry for fucking up. I hope I regain my inspiration soon. But heyyyyy this almost qualifies as fluff, right?)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Primal Scream song "Love You".
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!!
> 
> This work has been translated into Russian: http://ficbook.net/readfic/1700247/4751448#part_content


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